


How can you tell when your partner is a good dancer?

by glamorouscarnation



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Fluff, Other, Party, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21674230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glamorouscarnation/pseuds/glamorouscarnation
Summary: Juno and Peter do a heist in a mansion. Takes place in Season 1. The specific lore doesn't really make too much sense but it's not a big deal.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	How can you tell when your partner is a good dancer?

We had just barely managed to sneak onto the grounds of the mansion when Nureyev decided to tell me the rest of his plan.

"The ballroom is enormous, so we'll need to make it around without drawing too much attention to ourselves. We can simply dance our way across, then you can make a big scene of some kind once we make it close enough to the gallery, and I can swipe the painting."

"Oh, hell, no. Absolutely not."

Nureyev smirked. "What, I thought you'd enjoy being the one making the scene! You have quite the flair for the dramatic."

"I- what- no- No! I mean about the dancing!"

Nureyev's smile went out as soon as I finished my sentence, but he recovered quickly. "You don't want to dance with me?"

"I just, don't want to dance. In general. I'm not a great dancer."

"Well, neither am I! We can laugh about it later. Come on!"

Nureyev grabbed me by the wrist and led me into the main ballroom. He was right, it was absolutely huge. The ceilings were so high that if there hadn't been huge chandeliers placed all around the room, I might've thought there wasn't a ceiling at all. The dance floor itself was packed with various Venusian bureaucrats, and I felt confident that no one here knew me. It gave me a sense of comfort, for a moment. Until Nureyev turned to me.

"Are you ready?"

I took a deep breath, and steadied myself. "As I'll ever be."

He snaked one of his hands around to the small of my back and took his other hand in mine. As he shifted his weight and took his first steps, it began to dawn on me. _He was definitely lying about being bad at dancing._

I was so taken aback at his grace and confidence I wrenched myself out of his arms. By the way his eyes had gone wide, I knew I had almost made a huge mistake. I came back to him, my movements shakier.

"What in the world was that?" he hissed in my ear. Not angrily. Just shocked and confused.

I cleared my throat, and hoped to God my voice wouldn't give me away. "Nothing. It was nothing. Let's just make it over there, yeah?"

We started to dance again, a bit slower this time. He kept his embrace tighter around me, shielding, caring. After a while I began to relax into him and my movements became so natural I didn't even have to think about them. I may have even closed my eyes.

Then came Nureyev's voice, softer than I'd ever heard it, practically a whisper. "Juno. Juno, darling? It's time."

We had stopped dancing. I slowly looked up at him, and was overwhelmed with warmth. The tenderness I saw swimming in his eyes was like something I'd never seen before. It was the type of thing reserved only for dreams and storybooks. With the way I felt looking in those eyes, I was sure my eyes looked the same. I knew what I needed to do, but I didn't want to let go of him.

Nureyev was the one to finally the one to let go. He nudged me, and stepped away. I turned around to take the entire ballroom in, and it only took a moment to come up with the perfect distraction.

I walked, as nonchalantly as possible, towards the giant tower of champagne glasses. The pyramid seemed at least ten feet tall, as it loomed over the entire ballroom. So, in best fake-drunk fashion, I stumbled headfirst into the tower.

The crash was enormous; the sound of breaking glass seemed to last for a comedically long time. I almost felt bad, until I remembered this was exactly what I was supposed to do. I decided to make a break for it instead of dealing with the aftermath and broken glass. I was certainly no escape artist, but despite being drenched in champagne and stuck with a few shards of glass, I made it out of the ballroom easy enough.

By the time Nureyev and I had made it to the safety of our getaway car, he took one good look at me and nearly keeled over laughing. I hadn't seen a mirror, so I could only imagine how absurd I looked.

"Hey! It worked, didn't it?" I said, shoving his shoulder.

"It certainly did, Juno Steel. It certainly did." He leaned across the console to kiss me, and, as welcome and wonderful as it was, all I could taste was champagne.


End file.
